by Nancy Moser
Her mother took a bite of her fruit cocktail. “Yet I take it you did not come here to partake of the cuisine?”
Vanessa set her fork down. “Daddy has cut me off.”
“Not surprising. He never did tolerate independence well. He’s just mad. He’ll come around for his darling daughter.”
“I don’t think so. I’ve been more rebellious in the past week than I’ve been in twenty-one years.”
“You could recant.”
Vanessa was shocked. “You want me to go back to the way things were?”
Her mother put a hand on hers. “Of course not. I want you to be all you can be. But I want it to be your choice, not mine. Not his. Yours. Ultimately, you’re the one who has to live with it, Nessa.”
“I need a job.”
“Then get one.”
“The dorm’s paid through the semester, but then I’ll need a place to stay.”
“Then get one.”
Her mother was exasperating. “It’s not that easy.”
“Sure it is. You apply for a job and take it. It may not be the job of the century, but it will pay the bills. Then you find a place to stay. Believe it or not, Nessa, struggling when you’re on the road to achieving a dream can make the blood flow in a most invigorating manner.”
“The struggling part is right, but the dream? I don’t have one.”
“Sure you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
Her mother slapped a hand on the table. “Then you’d better get one!”
“You make it sound so simple, like I’m shopping for a new blouse.”
“Simple it’s not. But it’s not impossible either. Here’s the key: Life is not random, dear girl. Each one of us has been created with a unique purpose. The trick is to find out what it is.”
“Some trick.”
Dorian took a sip of milk. “Hey, God’s aching to tell us. We just need to be open to the information.”
Vanessa laughed softly, then spread her arms. “So I just say, ‘Here I am, God! Show me your plan,’ and I’ll know?”
“Pretty much.”
“Mom…”
“Hey, what have you got to lose? And though He usually doesn’t show us all the details up front, if you open yourself up to a little divine direction, it will happen. You will get it. And suddenly you’ll start noticing all sorts of hints and pieces of the puzzle.”
If only it were true.
Her mother took a bite of brownie and flicked a crumb off her lip. “Here’s a question for you: Are you truly interested in business, or are you getting a business degree because your father wants you to?”
Vanessa stopped pulling her fork through the mac and cheese. “I just had that same thought this morning.”
“Great minds…”
She looked away, trying to think it through. “Business is kind of interesting.”
“But it doesn’t float your boat, does it?”
She smiled. “No. Probably not.”
“Then what does?”
“I… I don’t know.” She put her fork down. “And shouldn’t I? If we each have this unique purpose, shouldn’t it be right out there, smacking us in the face?”
“Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn’t. Or it’s been covered up so long we have a hard time seeing what’s what. Sometimes it’s a mystery and we have to put together the clues.” She dabbed her mouth with a napkin but kept her eyes on Vanessa, as though if she looked hard enough, she’d see purpose written on her daughter’s face. “Mmm. Here’s a thought. You were good with my students. They really like you.”
“I really like them.”
“Remember how you used to spend hours playing school?”
“That’s because you were a teacher.”
Her mother shook her head. “There was more to it than that.”
Vanessa thought back to all the imaginary schools she’d created in their basement, complete with seating charts, lesson plans, bulletin boards, and tests. And what had she requested for birthday and Christmas presents? School supplies. There was nothing more comforting and exciting than a new box of crayons and a fresh pad of paper.
Her mother was nodding. She waved a finger at Vanessa’s face. “I see your brain working. He answered fast, didn’t He?”
“Didn’t who?”
“God.” She mimicked Vanessa’s previous arms-out stance. “You asked, He answered.”
“I asked in jest.”
“Tough. God’ll take any ‘in’ He can get.”
Vanessa felt her heart pumping. The idea of being a teacher… it was interesting.
Then reality hit. “But I’m a junior in Business. I’ve been taking all the wrong classes.”
“Some of the wrong classes. I bet a lot of them would transfer. And so what if it takes an extra year? A teaching degree would open the door to your talents, your purpose. Isn’t that the real goal?”
“But—”
Suddenly, there was a flash of light, and it was as if Vanessa had been fed a dose of new thoughts. Her already confused mind was inundated. Full. She looked across the table at her mother and marveled at how young she looked.
Why, she’s younger than I am.
What?
I’m fifty.
“Nessa? Are you all right?”
Vanessa looked down at her hands. They were unwrinkled, smooth. She noticed her blouse. It was a cheap knit with an orange-and-lime diagonal pattern. She wore green double-knit pants.
“I hate these clothes!”
Her mother laughed. “You could do with a makeover. I blame your father for making you a fuddy-duddy at twenty-one.”
Twenty-one. She was twenty-one!
It’s the Dual Consciousness!
She stood up from the bench, nearly toppling her tray of food. “I have to go!”
Children turned their heads. Teachers looked in her direction.
Her mother whispered. “Nessa! Sit down and tell me what’s—”
“I can’t. I have to go!”
“Just a minute and I’ll go with you.”
“No!”
She was acting like a crazy person. She forced herself to take a breath and managed a smile as she motioned toward her mother to remain seated. “Sit. Finish your lunch. I’m sorry to act so strange, but you’ve just given me a lot to think about. I need to be alone for a while.”
Her mother looked doubtful. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Then she realized this might be the last time she would ever see her mother. If she went back to the future, Dorian Pruitt was—
Dead? No!
She couldn’t think about that now. She had to get her thoughts organized.
Vanessa went around the table and gave her mom an awkward hug. “Thank you for all you’ve done. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Nessa. And I’ll continue to help you. Any time, any place. I’m not going anywhere.”
But I might be.
She hurried from the building.
Vanessa ran a hand around the huge steering wheel of her car. She couldn’t believe she was driving her 1973 Gremlin again. She’d loved this car. It had been a high-school graduation present from her father. Looking at it now, comparing it to the BMW she and Dudley drove around—
Dudley! She was married! They had a daughter. Rachel!
And you have a child here. Now. In this time. She put a protective hand on her abdomen. “I didn’t have the abortion! The baby is still alive.”
A car honked and Vanessa swerved back to her own lane.
Too close. How horrible would it be for her to die just minutes from making the decision of a lifetime.
Two lifetimes.
I need to stop. I
need to think.
But where? Sitting in her car on the side of the road seemed anticlimactic. But where could she go to be alone?
She spotted her mother’s church a block ahead.
Perfect.
She hesitantly entered the sanctuary, hoping she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was alone. She walked up the center aisle to the second row of pews and slid in. The afternoon sunlight lit the stained-glass windows that flanked the wooden cross hanging up front on a wall of stone. She’d felt something here before…
“I need help,” she whispered.
The room answered with silence—not that she expected anything verbal, but it would have been nice.
She ran her hands through her hair, expecting to find it short, but it was long and silky again. This was so incredibly odd. To have the mind of a fifty-year-old in a twenty-one-year-old body. Actually, it was ideal. To find the wisdom of age present in a body that had many years left to live. Only a handful of people would ever experience that phenomenon. Only a handful of people would have this chance.
She dare not blow it.
The thing was, her present combination of wisdom and youth wouldn’t last. In less than an hour she would choose either wisdom and age, or ignorance and youth. Which would it be?
She leaned forward on the pew in front of her and rested her forehead on her folded hands. “I want to make the right decision. Please help.” She hoped God didn’t expect her to be eloquent, because at this moment it wasn’t possible. It was a time to get down to basics. Look at the facts.
Which were…
She had to sort out her two lives, figure the pros and cons of each. First the future. The pros: It was known. She’d lived through the hard part of life. In spite of all the jokes about being over-the-hill at fifty, there was also freedom in that age. She’d already traveled through many difficult times. Her life was established. It was time to enjoy the fruits of her labor.
Which were…
“I’m married.” As soon as she said the words, she was tempted to take them back and put them in the “con” column. It’s not that she didn’t love Dudley. He was a good man, a good provider, and an okay father. But what was the phrase her mother had used? He didn’t float her boat.
Not that she expected mad, passionate living at age fifty. Yet shouldn’t there be some passion? And for that matter, when had she ever experienced any passion?
She snickered. The only ardor she’d encountered in either life was with Bruce, her crud of a boyfriend who’d left her the moment he found out she was pregnant.
Once again her hands covered her unborn child.
The first time around she’d suffered through an abortion and the subsequent depression that had caused her to flunk out. Back in 1976 doctors hadn’t recognized the mental and emotional aftereffects of abortion like they did now. They’d been too caught up in just being able to do it that they hadn’t considered much about if they should. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.
Her mind flashed to the man who’d recently given her that quote: David Stancowsky.
David Stancowsky?
She sucked in a breath as she realized he was one of the other winners! The phrase “small world” was not adequate.
So this is what the first Time Lottery winners had meant when they’d talked about a link and mentioned meeting each other in their pasts. How interesting…
She shook her head against the diversionary thought. “Focus, Vanessa, focus.”
The baby was here in 1976, but there also was a child in the future: Rachel. If Vanessa had been a fuddy-duddy at age twenty-one in 1976, Rachel was following suit during her own twenty-first year. She was old before her time. Vanessa could blame her father for her own staid stuffiness, but what was Rachel’s excuse? Were Dudley and herself to blame? Or… could she blame her father for this, too? For Yardley Pruitt was still highly involved in their lives. Had he succeeded in stifling a third generation of Pruitt women?
If Vanessa stayed in the past, she would never see Rachel again. Never be able to inspire her toward independence. She had her own mother to thank for that experience.
But in the future Mom is dead.
Tears came. Tears of regret. To think she’d spent thirty-four years of her life without her mother. Never knowing what their relationship really meant to both of them. Never knowing the truth and basing her entire life on lies.
If she went back, she might be able to undo some of the damage her father’s deception had caused. Some. But the fact was, most moments were irretrievable. And only through the memories that she would retain from this visit into the past would she ever know her mother. She’d never be able to see the complete life that could have been lived under her influence, with her love. In the future, that life was gone.
She lifted her head and circled back to her first point. “But the future is established. It’s known.”
That was a plus. She was a successful community volunteer, she lived in a lovely home, she wanted for no material possession. She knew who she was and what she was. People respected her.
But for what? For raising the act of do-gooding to the level of a divine appointment? For making everyone around her feel inferior because they weren’t as good, weren’t as giving, weren’t a saint like she was? Oh, the pride she’d taken in being needed. Her need to be needed.
But was that really a bad thing? Wasn’t that a common human trait?
Not to the point of obsession.
She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to get back on task. If she went back to the future there was one perk she hadn’t acknowledged. She’d have the chance to call her father on all his past lies. Face-to-face. There would be satisfaction in that. Revenge could be sweet.
But what would it prove? What good would come of it? Most likely she would end up being estranged from him then, as she was estranged from him here in 1976.
“I’ll start over in the future.”
That was an option. Fifty wasn’t that old. After telling her father off, she could rid herself of all the mediocrity of her life. She could quit her obsessive community work, quit her marriage, get an apartment of her own, and start fresh. But isn’t that what you’re doing here?
She raised a fist to the cross. “I’m confused!”
Another voice sounded behind her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
She turned around to see Lewis standing in the middle aisle. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I could ask you the same question.”
She let out a puff of air. There was no way she could ever explain Dual Consciousness to a 1976 man who didn’t even know about PCs, CDs, or DVDs, much less Alternities, Serums, and Loops. “I have a big decision to make, Lewis, and I—”
He slid in beside her on the pew. “Can I help?”
“If only you could.”
“I’m a good sounding board. Talk. Let your ideas bounce off me.”
It was a stupid idea, and yet… maybe a brilliant one. As her thoughts needed to turn to why she should stay in 1976, they might benefit from the compassionate heart of this man who would certainly be a part of her life here.
But how to word it? She took a moment and looked at the calm assurance evident in his face. There was compassion there. Acceptance. Understanding. She found words to start. “I’m experiencing an upheaval in my life.”
“The baby.”
It was a good place to begin. “I’m having it. I’ve gotten that far in my decision. But I’m not sure beyond that. I don’t think I’m ready to be a mother.”
His eyes lit up and he put a hand on her knee. “There’s a couple in church here… They’ve just started to talk about adopting a child. They can’t have any of their own and have been praying for a baby for years. Maybe you’re an answer to their prayers
.”
Vanessa’s hand moved to her chest. “I can’t imagine being an answer to anyone’s prayers.”
Lewis smiled at her. “Oh, really?”
She bumped against him, shoulder to shoulder. She liked him. A lot. The possibilities of a relationship with Lewis O’Neal were definitely intriguing. Yet she couldn’t ignore the fact he was black. Though that didn’t mean as much in the future, back in 1976 it was still an issue. A relationship with him would involve more than just the usual man-woman concerns.
“What else?” Lewis asked.
She glanced at her watch. She was glad he was spurring her on. She had only a short time left before the Dual Consciousness would fade and she would be stuck here.
There were worse fates.
She tried once again to focus. “Mom thinks I should change majors. I don’t really like Business.”
“Pursuing that degree is the result of your father’s influence, right?”
“My entire life is the result of my father’s influence.” She looked at the cross, remembering the offering incident in her father’s church. “He’s mad at me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not sure we’ll talk again. Ever.”
“That’s a little drastic.”
“All these changes I’m talking about… he doesn’t—or won’t—approve of any of them.”
“Do you need his approval?”
“I’ve always had it.”
“Have you?”
His question stopped her cold. Had she? Even when she’d done what her father wanted her to do, in his eyes it was never done well enough, and his needs always took precedence. Perhaps there was no way to truly please him.
So why try?
She thought of more practical matters. “He’s cut me off financially.”
Lewis extended his hand and waited for her to shake it. “Welcome to membership in the Just-Getting-By Club.”
She tucked her hand under her thigh. “I’m sorry to admit I’m used to having money.”
“Nothing wrong with that. We all want money. We need money to survive. It’s an unfortunate fact. But there is a certain satisfaction in working hard to get it.”
